Talk to Me
by GemairaNoir
Summary: This is for the Homestuck Secret Santa 2014. The first part of my little contribution for my giftee, Fluffymanadocus! A lil' bit of a nymph/deity Sollux and troll Eridan!


This is EriSol I swear to Jegus.

Although to be fair it's not blatantly so for this.

This is kinda an introduction to an idea I had for a nymph/deity Sollux and a regular troll Eridan.

So, spoiler alert, I'll tell you right now that Sollux's species in this can take the forms of a metallic tree and a troll, but only when certain requirements are met. (Still working out details of the species)

Also, I didn't adhere to what Hussie explained troll culture was acutally like, so I also have the formation of lusus and ancestors taking care of offspring. Lusii still hunt and clean and generally take care of the baby, but ancestors are expected to teach fighting skills and to do other bonding things with their offspring.

It's written in a sort of 'Eridan's point of view' too so there's that.

This is the first part of the Homestuck Secret Santa 2012 I did for Fluffymanadocus!  
>I hope you like T^T<p>

I also recommend listening to 'Unravel Tokyo Ghoul' the music box version. Mostly because that is what I listened to, on repeat, while writing this.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Be brave.

That's what they kept telling you.

But to a five year old troll it was nothing less than terrifying.

To have your lusus taken away from you, murdered before your very eyes. To have your ancestor disappear and to be left alone.

It wasn't an uncommon thing so why should you be sad? Why should you feel like the world was crumbling around you?

Their words couldn't have been anything less than poison.

You had gotten so used to seeing your ancestor every month or so after missions and raiding parties, to explore your planet and visit places, that when he was staying out longer and staying with you for shorter amounts of time, it wasn't something that went unnoticed.

It was as if someone had put a wedge inbetween him and you, and you couldn't locate it to remove it before the axe swung down and split him from you forever.

Your lusus had told you that it wasn't your fault, and that wasn't the problem, not really, not for you. But you could see how disinterested he had become in everything. The way that your ancestor had slowly become unable to bring himself to the ruins of ages long gone, his favourite place to bring you when he was back.

Maybe he had gotten too old to make the trip. You wouldn't know, he left too quickly for you to have found out.

He just said that he was going to be leaving for a long time, to go somewhere, to find something. Not to you, more like he was talking to himself or the night air, but you heard it all the same. And he did just that. He left on one of his trips and just never came back.

After a year you still believed that he was coming back, even when the conversations and little passing comments to you got from the other trolls was pointing in the exact opposite direction.

They called him a coward, running away from his duties as an ancestor.

You defended him viciously. You knew better than they did. You had seen the heartwrenching sadness that filled his eyes and guided his actions. He wasn't a coward. If anything, his heart was the coward. For what and why you never knew, but you knew that there was a reason.

Everyday your lusus would tell you that it wasn't your fault, yet it always seemed like a passive way of saying it was.

And you started to believe it to be true.

This was also about the time that your lusus became sick.

He had been staying out later, and seemed to be spending his time in the coastal area, hunting for your favorite fish and shellfishes of all shapes and sizes.

It started with just some snifflling. It escalated to light coughs, shivers, a bit of breathlessness now and again, then it went to full blown wheezing, fevers, and even seizures.

It didn't take long for the drones to find out that he was sick.

It took even less time for them to decide he was a hazard to the troll community and had him culled.

It really felt like your fault then. Having to sit there helpless while they ripped him to shreds and then drug him off, thick purple lines following.

And they still told you to be brave.

Normally, when you lost both lusus and ancestor they assigned a drone to drop off processed food to your doorstep on a set schedule until you became old enough to go hunting on your own or get a job, but because they lacked the military presence they needed in this area, and couldn't spare a drone to give you food, they decided to move you.

There was also the fact that you were a highblood and they would look bad treating you normally.

And you were moving far away, too. Not off the planet, but away from the community that you had grown up around.

That's why you decided to come out here alone.

No one was listening.

You didn't want to move. Wanted to stay in the same hive you had grown up in, but you were only six and couldn't take care of yourself, or was too stupid to know how to fight that verdict.

But no one wanted to listen to the babble of a highblood, someone who was priveleged and couldn't possibly understand what true loss was.

You had set out with the intention of walking around, just for the sake of exploring while you still had the chance, but found that dirt had given way to moss covered and purposefully cut stone before you had realized it.

Maybe it was because your ancestor talked to highly of the place, said that it made him happy to just be there.

Or because he said this was the place that you could actually be heard.

Either way, the ruins of browned brick were a familiar greeting and you ran your hands across certain rocks as you passed them by. Remembering your ancestor doing the same and noticing that you didn't come close to reaching the place that he had touched, too short and young yet to reach.

The huge door of the fallen ruins was bent, broken, yet you didn't fear it falling. Your ancestor didn't fear it so why should you?

The walls inside were aged and worn. Carvings and black symbols covered everything from floor to ceiling and everything inbetween.

You ancestor once said that they were stories that old ones drew upon the rock so no one would forget what stories there were to be had from this place.

And there were so many.

Sometimes it was hard to see where one story started and another began.

They were all very intriguing to you. You had spent so long in these halls trying to figure out what the old symbols were with your ancestor, and had even succeded in a few of them. Vague outlines of what happened are all you ever got, but it was enough.

Though here wasn't where you would be heard. Not unless you drew upon the wall and waited for the response.

You honestly didn't have that kind of time, so you went to the place that your ancestor insisted that you stay out of. The place he went to on his own when he came back.

It was the main chamber that he had said you should leave alone. And it wasn't for meanness or spite that your ancestor told you to stay out of there. At least, you don't think so. He always reguarded that chamber with a sort a reverence and you could see the faint forming of that sadness in his eyes the last time he came here with you.

The hallways through the ruins were long and twisted, forming a nye impenitrable maze to anyone who didn't know their way around.

You, however, did know your way around.

Weeks had been spent in this place and it was clearly mapped out in your mind to the point where you were confident that you could get anywhere in the ruin with you eyes closed.

You wouldn't actually do that though. The debris and brown, dead roots that covered walls and floor alike made it a hazard to walk without looking where you were going.

It didn't take you long to make it to the main chamber, a completely intact door with jade curling around the edges of it's stone frame greeted you.

Dark wood, waterlogged despite the dryness of the area, pushed the wood firmly in place of it's frame, and though it wasn't intimidating, it was no doubt going to be a problem to force the door out of it's place firmly wedged in the frame and to reach the area beyond.

The black iron on the door seemed to have swelled with the wood, and the round door handle with the hole through it was moist, as if silently confirming that stray thought.

You gripped that handle hard, both hands turning pale around your knuckles as you pulled for all the six year old you was worth.

The door creaked, groaned, strained, but didn't come out of place.

You tried again, wanting to know what was in this room. Curious as to why your ancestor had been to attracted to this place.

The door stayed in stuck.

You were panting and straining and the purple was rushing through your body and showing in your face as you exerted yourself again and again, becoming more and more upset that you couldn't open it. Your ancestor could, so why couldn't you?

You were just about ready to start crying, you hadn't been able to do anything right lately. And that had cost you so much.

You sniffled and wiped at the vaguely forming tears before giving it another go, bracing a foot against the wall and closing your eyes to focus all of your energy on forcing the door open.

And this time, with a light pop and a loud groan, the door swung out of it's stuck position. Ultimately landing you on your rump, but it didn't matter so much to you anymore. You had gotten it open, and that was what mattered.

You stuck your head through the doorframe and looked around, not sure what to expect.

But what was there was breathtaking.

Or, at least, it should have been.

It was an enormous room, bigger than your entire hive if it didn't have all it's walls and rooms and floors. Every surface in the room had the familiar black markings and places on the walls had damaged pipelines going everywhich way, blocking some of the black behind their enormous girths.

Piles of rubble lay strewn here and there on the floor and looking up you could see an absolutely huge skylight that let the bright of an afternoon sun down upon the main part of the room.

In the far part of the room, nearly against the wall, was a gargantuan tree. Branches streched out and up, but the way that they were bent, and the colouration, the overall thinness of how it looked, it was as if it was dead.

And the most amazing part was that the entire tree seemed to be made entirely of carved metal.

You couldn't even fathom the amount of time and dedication it would have to take to make such a thing, it looked so real. And someone had spent that time making a dead tree.

You walked into the room with something close to wonderment, looking at everything and anything that could be seen, until you reached the tree.

The absolutely astonishing size of the thing was even more apparent when you were this close to it. It could crush you with no problem, but you weren't scared. The tree seemed to have an aura of protectiveness that made you feel like you were safe. That nothing could happen so long as you stayed under the dead branches of this metal tree.

You followed the trunk down to where the roots went into the ground, meeting one root that was just by your foot with your eyes and noticing the disturbed dirt there.

Someone had sat here, at least you think so, if the dirt that was spread around and displaced was any indicator.

You looked back up to the tree, then down at the ground, contemplating, thinking.

This could have been where your ancestor sat just a year ago. He could have been talking to this tree. Why he would want to talk to a tree was beyond you, but you weren't going to hate him for it. Far from it.

A tree, even a dead metal one, would be able to listen. It wouldn't interrupt, wouldn't tell you that you were wrong, and wouldn't shun you for your ideas or thoughts.

You sat down in the dust, crossing your legs neatly like your lusus had taught you to, and looked up through the drooping branches of the tree.

And you talked.

"Hello, mista tree," you said softly, yet your tiny voice echoed around the room endlessly, bouncing along the walls until it hit the sunlight of the roof and disappeared.

You're not entirely sure why you called it a 'mister'. It just seemed to fit well, and maybe you did want to talk to another guy at this point. Both your lusus and ancestor had been male so it was more comfortable for you to talk about personal stuff to someone of the same gender.

"I'vve hadda bad day today." Your stutter came out in full force and you pursed your lips after the sentence had left you. It was always something you hated and tried to not do, and for the most part it worked, just not around your w's and v's.

"A wwhole bad year, actually." You said with a bit of thought, going over bits of what had happened over in your mind and looking down at your hands, clasping them in your lap nervously.

"Do you mind if I talk to ya 'bout it?"

You knew it wasn't nessisary to ask the tree. The tree could do nothing even if it didn't want to listen to you. But it just felt wrong to not ask. Like you were burdening the very air with your talk.

The tree, of course, didn't respond. It didn't oppose or approve, not in any noticeable way, but you could swear that there was confirmation.

"I..." You trailed off almost immediately. Where do you even start?

Maybe you should start with what happened most recently, work your way backwards. It's easier to remember more current happenings anyway.

"They're makin' me go far awway," you take a steadying breath, listening to the echoes for a moment, "I don't wwanna leavve. But they said it wwasn't an option.

"They said that they can't spare anyone to get me food. I don't understand that. Wwhat's so hard about dropping off a package now an' again so that I don't starvve? They can't be that busy. There aren't any wwars. And Dualscar, my ancestor, told me that if there aren't any wwars they can spare any number a' soldiers for menial tasks."

You introduced your ancestor in your spiraling ramble and the name felt so unfamiliar and sad. Like it had been laced with a toxin that released feelings of sadness for whomever said it.

"I guess they just don't wwant a lususless troll to be takin' up space." You said bitterly.

You were small and knew that you didn't take up that much space anyway. You could just let another family come in and help take care of you. But:

"I suppose no one really wwants to take care of a troll as useless as me."

You draw your legs up and wrap your arms around them, hugging them to yourself and wishing it was something more.

"I couldn't stop them from takin' my da awway," you could feel your throat squeeze and your eyes sting, "I couldn't do anything."

"I should've spent more time telling him to stay home. If he hadn't gotten so sick..." You stop, trying to command your voice not to quiver and just talk about it.

"It's my fault that he was out there. I'm not stupid. I knoww wwhat he wwas doin'."

You duck your head down, pressing your face against your knees as little hiccups wracked your body and transparent purple began falling down your face.

"He said it wwasn't my fault. But I knoww that I had to've done something. He wwas out there lookin' for Dualscar. I knoww he wwas. But wwhat wwas I supposed to do?

"I wwas just happy to havve all that food. And then he got so sick. I just... I didn't knoww wwhat to do!"

You grit your teeth to stop the excuciating pain that was pumping through your chest. You heart beating as if it had a weight tied around it, heavy and weak.

"I don't evven knoww wwhy he left! He said he had to go somewwhere, find something. But he nevver said wwhat. And noww he... he's..."

Your own sobs echoed infinitely around the room. You felt like an idiot talking to yourself, or talking to the tree, whichever.

But it just felt so safe. Even if you did sound like an idiot and even if there wasn't anyone listening, it was easier to say things here. Here no one would be able to tell you that you were being stupid. Or that you were a baby for breaking down.

"Evveryone keeps tellin' me... tellin' me that I should... just be bravve," your sobs are breaking up your speech, just like your stutter does, and it's enfuriating to listen to how it sounds bouncing around the brick, but there's still no one judging you, no one to tell you to just suck it up, or to stop now, so you don't, "But I don't wwanna be bravve! I wwant... I wwant my ancestor! I wwant my lusus! I don't wwanna... be alone!"

With the finality of your last words, having gotten everything off of your chest, you felt better, but the utter dispair at your situation weighed you down heavily. More than anything you wished to sink into the ground. Stay here forever. It was your last connection with your ancestor that you weren't being taken away from. At least not as forcefully as they were making you move from your hivestem.

So you sat. And wished. And cried your heart out.

And the whole time the tree looked on, as if it were listening but didn't quite know how to comfort you.

Clang clang

Pssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

You startled and whipped your head around as the lifeless and broken pipes seemed to revive, steam beginning to push out forcefully through the cracks here and there in the pipes as it made it's way through them.

You sniffled and quieted your sobs, looking around for what could have been the cause for them to do as they had.

They were broken, right? You could see into most if not all of the pipes, and the steam pouring from the cracks had blasted several layers of dust into the air, so they had obviously at least been unused for the last century.

You're not sure whether to be scared that they suddenly started working, or intrigued that their designs had allowed them to remain fuctioning for this long.

The loud roar of the steam increased in intensity for a time, then stopped.

You waited.

For what you weren't sure.

Maybe for the pipes to turn back on.

Maybe for some unknown entity of fear to step forth from the shadows.

But what did happen was neither of these things.

In the dead silence that followed the steam there was a dull clack against the decorated stone floor.

As soon as the noise traveled to your ears your heart was already pounding fit to burst.

You stood up as quickly as your tiny body could manage, turned your back to the metal tree, and looked around the room.

Nothing looked different. A little less dusty on and around the broken parts of the pipes and significantly more of that same dust on the floor, but mostly just the same look as when you entered.

Except for a tiny stone.

Or at least it looked like a stone.

It was too far from any rubble pile to have rolled off of one even if a pipe had been blowing directly on it, so it immediatly took your interest.

You wiped your face again and walked up to the odd rock. Once you were standing in front of it you looked down, a curious caution influencing your actions.

You bent down, it looked just like a rock. Except, shinier and perfectly rounded, like it had been carved.

You reach down and pick up the small object.

It's no bigger than your palm, but big enough that you can't quite wrap your fingers around it. And it's incredibly smooth for most of the way around it. At one point along the longer side of it there's a slight crack and what looks to be a tiny sprout carved out of it.

But beyond that, it's encredibly warm as well.

Like it had just recently been put in a furnace, but not hot enough to burn your skin.

You turn the tiny metal carving over in your hands a few times, waiting to see if the warmth dissapates. It doesn't. So you press it to your face, just to see.

It's warm and, ever so faintly, you could swear there was a consistant thrum coming right from it.

Like a heartbeat.

You are suprised to think that such a thing came from what was obviously a carving, but it was just like the tree, there was an uncanny sense of security from being around it.

You look around quickly, suddenly the thought that someone threw this into the hole as a joke makes itself known. But you find no one.

Looking back down at the seedling carving you can't shake the want to hold it close, to keep it. It wasn't yours, you knew that.

But whatever was going on here definitely meant something. Like you were supposed to have this little carving. Like the tree was giving you a small gift as thanks for talking to it.

Whatever it was, you wanted to keep the seedling.

You look back at the tree, desiccated and falling apart, as if looking for answers. Knowing none would come.

"I wwanna take this. Is that okay?" You ask the tree.

The tree, of course, doesn't answer. So, you tuck the small carving into your pants pocket just so, so that the little sprout is poking out of the top, and turn on your heel.

You know that the drones are probably looking for you to bring you to where you were now to be located.

And now that you had gotten all those things off your chest as well as a small token of the solace and care you got while you were here, you were ready to head back.

Well, maybe not ready, but much more prepared than what you had been a little while ago.

You stick your hand inside of your pocket and rub the smooth metal with your thumb, take a deep breath, and walk out of the ruins.


End file.
